


i want to keep your warm light (i won't miss it, i'll hold you in my arms)

by minjilix



Series: like magic, our forgotten dreams become a flower and blooms. [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Artist Han Jisung | Han, Catboy Lee Minho | Lee Know, Cute Lee Minho | Lee Know, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Han Jisung | Han is Whipped, Han Jisung | Han is a Sweetheart, Han Jisung | Han-centric, Implied Sexual Content, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, Lee Minho | Lee Know is a Sweetheart, M/M, Mentioned Bang Chan, Not much tho, alternative title: author spends 5k worshipping minho through jisung, make that a tag, they are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minjilix/pseuds/minjilix
Summary: he had looked so serene and beautiful, the picture perfect of everything jisung has ever longed for, and then he’d noticed jisung staring and had turned to look at him, eyes wide and blinking rapidly before smiling and cocking his head to the side, inviting jisung to sit with him. it had made his heart want to beat out of his chest but it had also burst his mind aflame, the idea of imprinting this moment in paints forever was as overwhelming as the need to make minho smile at him like that for the rest of their lives.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: like magic, our forgotten dreams become a flower and blooms. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985533
Comments: 12
Kudos: 92





	i want to keep your warm light (i won't miss it, i'll hold you in my arms)

**Author's Note:**

> the lack of catboy minho fics is honestly so heartbreaking, so here's one from me by me for me. also projecting into jisung my lack of artistic motivation these past months? more likely than you think. 
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> tittle from eclipse by gfriend

there's paint and graphite on jisung's fingers, blue and yellow splattered all over his jeans and old ratty t-shirt that no matter how many times he washes it the marker and pen stains won't come out, which is why he wears it only for this occasions—this being when he's hit with inspiration, or is forcing himself to go through a piece despite his brain feeling like is gonna fall out of his ears. he's also pretty sure he's inhaled more eraser shavings than oxygen itself in the past twenty minutes, so he doesn't know if this piece is as good as he thought it'd be, erasing and redoing some parts more than three times usually, to him, means that he's gonna hate whatever he ends up with. but the idea won't leave his mind, the picture clear as day in his head and he doesn't have time to start a new canvas and sketch it all over again, so he makes do with the rough thing he has in front of him, lines looking more like blocks and basic shapes than an actual figure, but it'll eventually look put together and coherent— or so he hopes. 

it's been almost a month since he's had this burst of energy for his art, always too drained to do more than a few doodles here and there before giving up, his brain too muddled and blocked to make a half decent drawing. the pencil in his hand feels foreign in the way it moves with purpose, tracing and retracing the lines he likes the most, marking where everything goes and slowly forming a picture that he actually likes. it feels rusty, even if it hasn't been that long since he last created something with pencil or pen, it's been six months since he's taken out the paints out of the small cabinet where he keeps the more heavy handed supplies, glaring at it from time to time when he felt the itch to throw the colors onto a canvas and make something. 

he has barely started but there's already paint stains on the floor next to him and the crook of his elbow from where he was trying to open the cap of the paint tubes to switch the colors, make sure they aligned with the ones in his head. he knows it'll be a pain to clean later on, both off of the wooden floor and his skin, but he couldn't care less at the moment, eyes focused only on the canvas in front of him. 

there's a giddy sort of feeling in his chest as he puts down the mechanical pencil and stares at what is the groundwork for the colors, the excitement of finally being passionate about a piece once again after so long making goosebumps rise on his skin. he stares at the sketch for a minute, making sure everything is in place and looks good, he nods when what he sees satisfies him, biting his lip to keep the happy grin off of his face—to no bail, he just can't stop it, inspiration being too happy of a feeling to not let it overtake him—

the colors he chose this time, aren't ones he'd normally use in his pieces. soft, pastel tones surround him, only the deep navy blue contrasting against all of the other colors. he likes working with pastel colors, they build up nicely and make his pieces look softer, but more often than not he likes to go for the shock factor, to attract the eye towards catchy bits and a powerful message. this time though, the image he wants to create calls for more natural subdued tones, but they'll still leave a lasting impression he thinks.

when he picks up the brush, —his favourite one, a deep mahoney color, chipped at the side from when he bit too hard on it while holding it in his mouth. it was a birthday gift from his boyfriend—it feels familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, the weight of it being lighter than he remembered but harder to control as it feels it'll fall out through his fingers at any point. gripping it tighter, he dips it in water to soften it, and then in the baby blue acrylic paint. he starts slowly, making sure his strokes have purpose just like the lines underneath, getting used to the feeling of the brush in his hand and the paint following where he wants it to go. 

jisung loves painting, it feels freeing and endless, like he could lose himself in the swirling colors and quick shapes and strokes forever, but always come out with a piece that means _something_ . art, in every form, is everything jisung loves, is the way he expresses himself to the world and the way he tries to understand the world that surrounds him, he thinks it'd be pretty boring to be alive without art, without the popping colors and the music that takes you to another reality, without books and pictures to illustrate the perfect scene for escapism. there's art in everything, that he knows, has always known, and he decided to also create art — to purposefully bring different meanings to random colors and shapes, to put a thousand words together and make it an anthem for the lonely souls. jisung is an artist, and he loves every bit of it, even the parts where it seems like he'll never be able to create anything again because there's a wall between his brain and his creativity — well, he may not _love_ that part of being an artist, but it's part of the process and at this point he's gone through it so many times he's come to use it as a signal that he needs to stop and rest and focus on other aspects of his life. 

( _"you'll burn yourself out. and that's gonna be worse and more painful,"_ his boyfriend told him once while hugging him from behind, watching as jisung rewrote the same line for a song over and over again. _"you need to take a break, baby. think of it as a stop signal, as a way of telling you there are other parts of yourself to take care of."_

jisung had sighed, relaxing into his boyfriend's embrace and letting himself enjoy the small break from his pending mental breakdown.) 

he smiles as he dips the brush on the lightest pink he has on his pallet, thinking about how much it reminds him of what prompted this burst of inspiration in the first place. pinks, blues and oranges are the main colors of the piece— the sunset outside his window, his boyfriend's sweater that's just too big on him, and the artificial blue rose seated on top of their coffee table that they both like too much to put somewhere else even if it looks weird and lonely as the only flowery decoration they have on their living room. they should get more flowers, jisung thinks, they are nice, and pretty. and his boyfriend looks even prettier when surrounded by them. 

there's a gentle knock on the door that breaks jisung out from his thoughts, hand stilling on his strokes and back straightening as he turns around slightly. 

"come in, baby" he calls out, smiling when the door opens and his boyfriend pops his head in, leaning against the door.

"hey, you busy?" there's a tired look on his face and his ears are flattened against his head in that way they do when he's getting sleepy, and jisung recalls seeing him leave for his dance studio a few hours ago when he was still half asleep. he must've came back just now, judging by his damp hair and bare face. 

"uh— kinda, i'm just painting," 

"can i come in?" 

jisung snorts, shaking his head "of course you can, hyungie" 

minho smiles at him, eyes turning into crescents and ears perking up as he walks into the room, softly closing the door behind himself. 

jisung pats the space next to him on the floor as an invitation, and minho happily takes it, sitting next to him and laying his head on jisung's shoulder. he can feel the tension draining out of his boyfriend the moment he finds a comfortable position, his ears tickling jisung's neck and his tail wrapping around his waist. 

"how was dance, kitten?" jisung asks, turning back to his painting and starting to build up the colors again. 

minho hums, watching jisung paint for a few seconds before answering, voice drowsy with clear exhaustion, "tiring. we are going over a new choreo and one of the boys keeps messing up," he sighs, gently rubbing his face against jisung's shoulder, "i'm so tired, hannie" 

he chuckles at the evident pout in his boyfriend's voice, using the hand that isn't holding the paintbrush to scratch softly under minho's chin, smiling when he feels him purring. 

"why don't you go sleep some then, hmm?" 

minho whines, shaking his head as best as he can while still letting jisung pet him, clinging to his shirt, tiny hands tugging on jisung’s clothes. 

"don't wanna. didn't see you since the morning, wanna stay here," 

jisung had been barely coherent enough to say good morning by the time minho left the apartment, and then had huddled himself up in his 'studio' after laying on the empty bed for a good hour, too in the art zone to even think of texting or calling his boyfriend. but minho is a needy little thing, always greedy for jisung's attention, so it doesn't really surprise him that even when he's dead tired he'd want to stay with him. his heart swells with fondness and love, and he resists the urge to coo at how adorable his kitten is being.

"but i'm painting, and you don't like the smell of my paints," 

his boyfriend has a more sensible nose than jisung does, and he despises the smell of paints and the barnish that he uses to finish his pieces. it makes minho dizzy, all the chemicals making his head hurt. it's mostly the reason why jisung stopped painting in their living room and turned their little storage room into his 'studio'— not that he minds really, sure he has less space but there's also less chances of minho accidentally stepping on his supplies while trying to get around his work area. 

"so?" minho says, his tail has dropped from around jisung's waist and is now thumping softly against the floor in an annoyed manner. 

jisung chuckles, putting his paintbrush down and fully turning to him. 

minho is pouting, brows furrowed and cheeks puffed out. his tail is still thumping against the floor, sometimes softly hitting jisung on the leg. jisung just laughs again, reaching out to scratch behind minho's fluffy ears that twitch when he sees him moving.

"so, i don't want you to get sick, baby," he tugs lightly on one ear and minho whines. 

"i won't." his hyung counters, huffing a frustrated breath when jisung just raises his eyebrows, not believing him.

there's still wet paint on jisung's clothes but minho seems not to care as he straddles his lap, thighs on either side of his hips and hands resting on jisung's shoulders. jisung places his hands on the bare skin of minho's thighs from where his shorts have ridden up, smearing a bit of blue paint on him when he rubs gentle circles on his skin with the pad of his thumb. 

"you trying to bribe me with cuddles?" 

his boyfriend giggles, sneaking his arms around jisung's neck and coming closer, cocking his head to the side. his ears twitch yet again, and jisung can't help but smile.

"is it working?" minho's voice is soft and smooth, like warm honey, it soothes jisung even when his inspiration driven burst of energy is still running through his veins, making his hands itch to do _something_ , to move, to pick up the brush again. instead, he moves one of the hands on minho's thighs to his taut waist, pulling him flush against his chest, his lips brushing minho's as he speaks.

"i don't know...i think i need a bit more convincing," 

jisung doesn't think he'll ever get tired of kissing minho. no matter how many times they've done it before, it always gives him butterflies, that jittery feeling of excitement bubbling in his chest and squeezing his heart just like the first time as minho's soft lips move pliantly against his, eager and so sweet like candy. 

minho's fingers are carding through his hair now, softly pulling on it when jisung bites his lower lip, a pretty whine muffled against jisung's mouth. he loves the sounds minho makes, every little satisfied exhale and mewl when jisung touches him just right. 

he curses the burn in his lungs as he pulls away from the kiss, breath slightly uneven. he opens his eyes to see minho with his still closed, sinfully long eyelashes casting shadows against his cheekbones and his pretty lips parted, red and swollen, begging for jisung to dive back in and claim them again until minho is nothing more than a flustered, whiny mess in his arms.

minho's eyes flutter open, staring at jisung in dazed adoration, stars seem to shine in his irises and jisung thinks, not for the first time, that minho is the prettiest piece of art he's ever seen. all sharp edges but soft curves, each of his moves filled with a grace only years of dancing could give him, delicacy in every one of his features as if the gods took their time with him, molding him out of all their best materials and with careful precision. he's the muse every artist dreams of, or at least, he's the muse jisung has been looking for all his life, every painting and sculpture jisung has ever done pales in comparison to the ethereal beauty of minho. 

"so? that enough?" minho asks with a smirk, eyes half lidded and cheeks flushed. he looks gorgeous.

jisung hums, pretending to be thinking about it and minho makes an impatient noise, tugging on his hair playfully. he laughs, holding him close and placing a kiss on his temple. 

"yeah yeah, it's enough," 

minho beams at him, eyes turning into those pretty crescents he loves so much as he smiles, content with jisung's response. 

they stay like that for a moment, minho contently resting his head against jisung's shoulder, arms around his neck and tail wrapped around his thigh while jisung holds him close, enjoying his warmth. 

"hey," he says softly, hand rubbing slow circles on minho's back.

"hmm?"

"i need to keep painting, baby, i can't if you're on top of me" 

minho is quiet for a while before he sighs dejectedly, slowly detaching himself from jisung, and tiredly dragging his limbs away with a pout. jisung huffs out a small laugh and thumbs at minho’s bottom lip, relishing in the way his eyes widen a little and his mouth parts just slightly, still pink and swollen from their previous kiss. god, minho is gorgeous, and if jisung wasn’t genuinely busy and feeling like he’s gonna explode if he doesn’t finish this piece, he’d ruin his boyfriend further, making up for their lost time that morning.

“ _sung_ …” minho whines, hands bunching up in jisung’s shirt where he’s taken to holding onto it again. he wants to give in, to indulge minho and give him the attention he’s begging so prettily for, but he knows that if he lets his boyfriend distract him now he’s never gonna finish the painting. also the colors are drying and he hasn’t even finished blending the first layer. 

he chances another quick peck before turning to the canvas again, doing his best to ignore the need to pull minho into his lap again. god he’s such a goner, no wonder their friends never stop teasing them, every day he realises how bad he’s got it for minho. even after years of being together he still feels like falling over and over again with every little thing minho does, every laugh and smile and gentle touch. 

he looks at minho one more time, taking in his ruffled hair and still slightly pink cheeks, the sleeves of the hoodie he’s wearing,—that jisung has come to realise it’s actually _his_ —are going past his knuckles, fingers barely poking through. shorts ridden high enough from their previous kiss that he has to will himself not to stare too much. with a small smile he picks up the brush again, and he hears minho make a small satisfied noise when he sees it, always happy to see jisung using the gift he got him.

minho does that a lot— buying stuff for jisung, from things like a paintbrush and new oil paints to silly small knick knacks that jisung finds cute whether they are useful or not. even if jisung tells him he doesn’t need to keep doing it, minho doesn’t listen, content to spoil jisung and be thanked in cuddles and attention. 

( _“makes it feel like you’re mine, you know like_ — _i don’t know how to explain it,”_ minho's said once as he laid across jisung’s lap, tail lazily wrapped around jisung’s wrist. 

_“hmm, but i’m already yours, you don’t need to waste money on me, hyungie,”_

_“i know. but it’s more...like a reassurance for myself, i guess.”_

jisung hummed, not entirely understanding but thinking that it’s a little like when he sees minho in his clothes, comfortable and safe and _his_. it makes jisung’s heart thump painfully in his chest, the love he feels for minho making him a little breathless.) 

“what are you painting?” he startles a little at the sound of minho’s voice, lost in his thoughts as he refills the palette with the colors he needed. he feels the back of his neck grow hot as he thinks of the answer.

“uh...just— something that came to mind last night,” 

minho sitting by the windowsill as the sun sets behind it, the hues of orange and yellows and red blending in with the soft pastel pink of minho’s sweater, book in hand and glasses perched delicately on the bridge of his nose. the fake blue rose in between two of minho’s fingers as he absentmindedly plays with it while he reads. his tail curled over his own thigh and his ears twitching slightly whenever a car would pass by on the street below. he had looked so serene and beautiful, the picture perfect of everything jisung has ever longed for, and then he’d noticed jisung staring and had turned to look at him, eyes wide and blinking rapidly before smiling and cocking his head to the side, inviting jisung to sit with him. it had made his heart want to beat out of his chest but it had also burst his mind aflame, the idea of imprinting this moment in paints forever was as overwhelming as the need to make minho smile at him like that for the rest of their lives.

minho doesn’t say anything to his response, only hums gently and settles for watching jisung in contemplative silence. he likes seeing jisung paint, as he’d told him one time jisung asked him if he wasn’t bored of laying on the couch for about and hour just watching how jisung almost drank the paint water instead of his coffee, minho had giggled and said that not at all, _you always look so focused and calm, i like it_ . jisung had eloquently said _oh_ and proceeded to try and not smother his boyfriend in kisses right then and there while he still had paint up to three quarters of his arms and on his face.

they stay in that comfortable silence for a while, at some point minho makes himself comfortable curling up on the floor next to him, head resting on jisung’s thigh, one of his hands playing with the fraying threads of jisung’s ripped jeans. sometimes he scratches under his chin or gently plays with minho’s ears just to hear him purr, feeling the rumble of his chest against his body.

he likes this, likes the calm and the closeness, likes—loves the way minho trusts him so much, letting himself be this vulnerable and pliant under jisung’s touch. for as much of an extrovert as he is and liking the attention, minho isn’t that big on people or large groups of friends, guarded and closed off even when he’s joking around and being friendly, not quite ready to let them in just yet until he’d made sure they are worth sharing his world with. according to chan, though, jisung had been the exception. minho had taken to him almost instantly, and at first chan wasn’t really sure, thought that maybe minho had been in a particularly good mood the day he and jisung met and that’d made him friendlier, it tended to happen apparently. but—he’d said this to jisung once during one of their recordings after he was done laughing at jisung’s scribbled lyrics for a romantic song that absolutely had nothing to do with minho and the way his eyes sparkled, _fuck you bang chan_ — he knew his suspicions were right when he saw the way minho’s tail would perk up whenever jisung came into the room, ears standing to attention too and following every sound he made. chan had teased minho about it in front of their friends, saying how in the end it just took jisung and his offer to share the same slice of cheesecake to turn minho into a lap kitty. minho had retaliated by reminding chan of that time his tail wouldn’t stop wagging after changbin had held his hand during a hang out and chan didn’t mock him for the rest of the night after that. 

( _“i’m just scared of getting hurt again,”_ minho whispered after jisung, a little bit tipsy and a lot entranced by the glimmer of minho’s eyes and the pushness of his lips under the moonlight after a night out, had asked him why he was so apprehensive of people.

 _“oh…”_ taking minho’s hand in his own, jisung whispered back _“you know i’d never hurt you, right?”_

_“i know, i know you wouldn’t”_

that night jisung realized two things— one, he was hopelessly in love with lee minho and everything that was him, and two, the only promise he wanted to keep more than anything in the world was the one he made to the boy of his dreams tipsy under the shining moonlight as they walked through the midnight streets of the city, fingers intertwined with each other’s and eyes meeting with a sort of shy hopefulness. 

_“i’ll never hurt you. i’ll take care of you.”_ )

his chest feels heavy as he remembers the first months of their friendship and the tentative steps they took the next two years, both toeing the line between knowing about their feelings but not being sure enough to say something. the fear of potentially ruining their perfect friendship coupled with jisung’s inevitable anxiety at the thought of confessing his feelings and minho’s fear of getting hurt again by someone he loves made them take their sweet time getting together. 

they had never felt like they had lost any time whatsoever, their friendship was just as precious to them as their romantic relationship is. even so, jisung will never not be glad that now he can actually act on the need to kiss minho senseless whenever he wants, or that he finally knows how minho’s skin feels under his clothes and beneath jisung’s fingertips—warm and soft, and easy to mark when he presses his fingers just right in those places that make minho go a little breathless and a lot needy—. he’s more than glad to now know how it feels to wake up next to minho every day, to come back home to him and to go out with the firm knowledge that when he comes back minho is gonna be there waiting for him. 

he doesn’t know if the burn behinds his eyes is because of all the things he’s feeling right now, or because the smell of the paints is starting to get to him. which reminds him—he looks down, ready to tell minho maybe they should step out of the room and go to the living room for a while, but he finds him fast asleep, chest gently rising and falling. his hands are entirely covered by the sleeves of his—jisung’s—hoodie, and tucked close to his chest along with his legs, tail wrapped around himself and ears twitching from time to time.

“how are you _so_ cute, it’s not fair,” he whines in a low voice, not wanting to wake his boyfriend up. minho makes a small, trilling sound when jisung softly runs his hands through his hair—it’s getting long, falling in front of minho’s eyes and making him have to sweep it up every five seconds. he refuses to cut it though, and jisung likes it like that anyways— and rubs one of his ears in between his fingers the way he knows minho loves. 

“i love you so much,” he whispers, bending his torso down slightly to press a kiss to minho’s head. 

jisung doesn’t think he remembers a time before minho. a time before constant laughter and impromptu dates, before stolen kisses under the covers and pretty collars around a delicate neck, before all the softness, and passion and love that they are together. he doesn’t remember a time before minho, and frankly he doesn’t want to anyways, doesn’t need it. he’s content like this, he’s happy like this.

in the end he doesn’t end up finishing the painting that evening. or even that night, because after waking minho up as gently as he could, he told him to get ready because they were going out for dinner. 

“it’s a date,” he said against minho’s lips as he woke him up better with small pecks that made minho giggle and playfully swat at his arm. “wanna take my baby out after he’s had such a long day.”

he finishes the painting a week later instead, stares at it for at least three hours before he decides that yes, he should show it to minho, he loves how it turned out and he’s sure minho is gonna love it too. no— he _knows_ minho is gonna love it like he loves all of jisung’s artworks, but it still makes him blush and get embarrassed at the thought of minho knowing he’s basically the only thing jisung wants to paint for the rest of his life. and it’s not like his boyfriend hasn’t seen all of jisung’s sketchbooks filled with, from doodles to more detailed drawings of him or sometimes the both of them, so after almost caving in and hiding the painting under a cloth, he calls minho into the room hesitantly. 

“i—uh, i wanna show you something...it’s what i was painting the other day,” he mutters the last part almost inaudibly, but of course minho picks it up, his ears standing tall in attention and eyes sparkling, an excited little smile gracing his lips, and jisung’s heartbeat goes down by a notch, the anxiety churning in his chest slowly being replaced by a warm feeling of reassurance.

the canvas is in the middle of the room, perched on the old batter easel jisung rescued from his grandma’s house, its colors a total contrast to the white walls and wooden floors of the room. 

despite having looked at it for far longer than he’d ever be comfortable with any of his other pieces, pride swells in his chest and spreads through his body the more he stares at this piece, jisung doesn’t think there’s anything that could take away the feeling of admiring it now that it’s finally done, even if he’s the one that painted it. 

in the painting minho is sitting by the windowsill just like that evening, the warm colors of the sunset illuminating his face in the best possible ways and making him have an ethereal glow, he almost looks surreal, like something not quite from this world, and the single blue rose from their living room is now a thousand small flowers all around him, vines climbing up the walls and the window, the deep, navy blue such a bright contrast against the sunset and minho’s sweater, tangling itself around minho’s legs and fingers, and seemingly in every space it could find. there’s a single, small cluster of white gypsophila tucked into minho’s hair and behind his ears, stark white against his black hair. 

he hears minho take a shaky breath next to him, and when he looks to the side he sees the tears welling up in his eyes. 

“wh— why are you crying!? oh my god—” minho laughs at his panicked tone and rubs his eyes with the back of his hands, but the tears keep coming up and now they are rolling down his cheeks so he just lets them.

“i just— it’s beautiful. i love it.” he says, almost breathlessly, and he turns to jisung, eyes shining so brightly under the artificial lights and reflecting the colors of the sun setting right outside their window. he smiles at jisung, that soft, kind smile that makes jisung want to hide in his arms forever and never leave his side. he feels the tears burn his own eyes too. “ _i love you so much._ ” 

(he spends that night kissing every inch of minho’s body, lovingly marking all the places he knows minho likes, whispering sweet nothings into his ear and reminding him of any and all the reasons why he loves him. and if they both cry again as minho intertwines their hands together and tells jisung that he wants to spend the rest of his life next to him, well then, that’s just for them to know.)

**Author's Note:**

> gypsophila is baby's breath. minho's favorite flower, one of its meanings is "i want to be with you forever"  
> also chan is a wolfboy lol i thought that'd be funny. 


End file.
